


Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

by grimsoul



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 74th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimsoul/pseuds/grimsoul
Summary: Renjun was staring at him and for the first time, his eyes weren’t hard and cold. Mark forgot about the nation’s favorite, about the charming, ruthless boy that was deemed victor from the very start. Instead, all he saw was a boy who was hurt, tired, and most importantly, just wanted to survive.“We’re doing this together,” Renjun said and Mark trusted him wholeheartedly.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

**Author's Note:**

> kinda missed markren and my fingers just started to write this. i didn't think i'd enjoy writing this so much but here u go!

Mark never thought that he would make it this far. 

When the announcer’s voice boomed through the crowd, shouting his name, he thought, _I’m dead._ A brusque and final thought, though it held the truth nonetheless. 

He knew in his bones what he was capable of. Sure, he’s more skilled in all areas than his peers but he knew he wouldn’t survive there. At least his mind wouldn’t. But for the sake of his parents, he took a deep, shaky breath and smiled for the whole Panem to see.

The second tribute seemed to be his complete opposite. Despite his small and innocent features, he was cold, quiet, and biting. He looked like he was born to be in the Games that Mark almost thought that he was from District One. 

Huang Renjun is his name. 

No one knew anything about him aside from the fact that both his parents died during the 56th Hunger Games. He was only four months old at the time. From there on, he grew in a community home, enduring the abuse and hunger. He was only eight years old when he managed to escape and was forced to fend for himself.

So maybe in some ways, Renjun was indeed born to be in the Games. To have the same cruel fate his mother and father had. To live a short, harsh life.

In retrospect, Mark should’ve seen that people were going to love Renjun. The boy can use his face and more importantly, his charms. He had managed to snag a couple of sponsors from just their training alone. Renjun is skilled in anything he touches in the gymnasium but his favorite was the scythe. Fitting for someone who looked like he was going to bring death upon everyone. After vigorous training, he’d send a playful smile that would have the sponsors swooning.

Mark couldn’t deny that his smile was blinding, but he also saw the malignancy in Renjun’s bright eyes. It was the first time that a tribute from District Twelve became the nation’s favorite. But Mark couldn’t blame them for being entranced by the boy.

After all, Renjun was a growing fire—and Mark could see how catastrophic he would become. 

• • •

No amount of malevolent words can describe the actual Games. It was a nightmare—and not even that could suffice how it really was. 

Mark didn’t know how he managed to survive the first twelve hours. Every tribute was on their edge, ready to pounce and make a scene for themselves. The bloodbath was well, a bloodbath. Mark’s memories of it were a blur. One second, he was standing still, blood rushing in his veins, waiting for the gunshot. Then the next, he was running away with a bag clutched in his hands. From that time alone, eleven had already died. 

The arena was ironically beautiful. If Mark wasn’t aware he was in a brutal game, he’d think that he was in paradise. It was a rainforest, complete with diverse flora and fauna. The fake sun shone bright and painted everything heavenly. In the middle of it all was a huge meadow where the Cornucopia stood. 

Though as paradisiacal as it looked, everything was lethal. From small seemingly harmless flowers, clear streams to cute singing birds; everything was their doom. Mark had to learn it the hard way, watching a kid from District Six choke on her own blood after taking a sip from the stream.

They weren’t friends but he had taken her under his wing. Mark stood frozen as he watched the light leave the girl’s eyes, his own hand, dripping with water, an inch close to his parted lips. It reminded him that he was still in the Games. That at any second, he could be the one dying on the ground. He gave her a funeral and spotted the nearest camera, holding out the three fingers of his left hand for Three Finger Salute.

He was on a treetop when the cannons started to go off. Bugs were biting him and the sky was already dark, littered with glimmering stars. He counted the booms in his head and fell asleep as if they were a beautiful lullaby.

Mark had promised himself that if he were to win the Games, he’d do it without a single drop of blood in his hands. But the reality was cruel. And in the Games, you could rely on nothing but the reality.

The day started normal—or as normal as it could be inside the arena. There were only seven of them left. Mark was hungry and parched but his feet went on. To be truthful, he didn’t know how many days had passed since the first one. In the arena, a second felt like an hour. An hour like a day. A day like a year.

It was a risky decision to travel along the river path. Anyone with common sense knew that. Not only that the area would be clear for anyone to see him, but there would be also a lot of animals nearby.

Surprisingly, it seemed like Renjun had the same risky decision. Mark didn’t think—not even once—that it was a mistake that Renjun had made. Renjun was too good for such a careless mistake. He clearly knew what he was doing and was ready for all the consequences.

Mark didn’t see Renjun at all. He saw Hyunjin first, intently watching something from behind the trees nearby. Senses clicking into place, Mark stopped in his tracks. He held his breath too as if something as soft as breathing would catch the other boy’s attention. 

When Hyunjin nocked an arrow onto his bow and drew the string, Mark was certain he was going to die. Hwang Hyunjin wasn’t the District One’s pride for nothing. After Renjun, Hyunjin was voted to be the most probable victor of the Games. It took him a moment to realize that Hyunjin’s gaze wasn’t on him at all so he followed his line of sight.

He felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs because standing on the side of the river was none other than Renjun. He was oblivious to what was happening as his back was facing Mark and Hyunjin. He was moving slowly, scythe in one hand, taking little steps at a time. Mark realized soon why because in front of Renjun was a brown grizzly bear thrice his size. It was moving around Renjun, waiting for the right moment to attack. Mark quickly turned his eyes back to Hyunjin, string still drawn and fingers about to let go. 

Mark didn’t think. Before he knew it, his feet were moving fast, dead leaves cracking in his wake. Hyunjin snapped his head towards him the last second, causing him to shift the bow and let go of the arrow. The arrow zoomed past Renjun, barely missing him by an inch, and hit the bear in the leg instead.

Though Hyunjin was quick to recover. Within a second or two, he had already nocked an arrow and quickly shot Mark in the leg. 

The pain was instant, making Mark stagger. But he didn’t stop. Even though he was limping like a fool, he still went after Hyunjin. Even though the pain was spreading to his leg like a wildfire, Mark continued.

Hyunjin didn’t have enough time to nock his third arrow. With all his strength, Mark knocked him into the ground. Hyunjin tried to fight him, punching his ribs, scratching his face, eventually trying to reach the knife strapped to his thigh.

But this time, Mark was faster. He grabbed the huge stone near Hyunjin’s head and smashed it down onto his face. 

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Mark couldn’t keep count. 

The only thing he knew was that when he stopped, Hyunjin wasn’t Hyunjin anymore. And that his hands were painted thick red. Mark felt sick, emptying the dinner he never had, and then the darkness swallowed him whole.

When Mark came to, he was in a cave of some sort. The jagged ceiling greeted him, yellowish in the dim light of the lantern. He tried to sit up only for the pain in his leg to come back. 

The hiss that escaped his lips was sharp and loud, and within a second, Renjun was by his side.

“Stay still.” Those were Renjun’s first words to him. How ironic that they’ve never said words to each other until now despite being from the same district. “Your wound doesn’t look too good.”

“How bad?” Mark croaked out.

“There’s a high chance you could die soon from the infection,” Renjun answered bluntly. Mark appreciated his honesty and nodded understandingly.

“Just leave me to die then.” 

Mark wasn’t trying to be brave. He was never brave. But he knew what his fate would be after hearing his name during the reaping. He had accepted that a long time ago.

Though Renjun only looked at him solemnly, a hand caressing Mark’s face. There was something in his eyes that Mark couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I’m not going to let you die, Mark Lee.”

Then Renjun leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. His lips were chapped and despite the grime and sweat, he smelled like cloves. For a moment, Mark thought that maybe he was back in District Twelve, dreaming in his peaceful sleep.

But he remembered the cameras, and that Renjun was probably doing it for the sponsors. Mark couldn’t afford to be hurt nor offended, not when the medical supplies arrived fast that evening.

With careful, light hands, Renjun treated his wounds. For once, Mark cherished the silence, the serenity their small cave brought. It felt like there wasn’t a game anymore like there weren’t three other people looking to spill their blood.

Mark kept having blackouts. “A normal side effect of the meds,” Renjun said. And by the time he was back to normal, Renjun told him that four days had already passed.

They never talked about what they would do once they get out of the cave. There was like an unspoken agreement that they would only talk about it when there were only the two of them. 

Not if but when.

He still walked with a slight limp but it didn’t hurt anymore. Refusing to be the preys of this game, the two of them searched for the others like sniffing wolves. Though Mark didn’t do anything big. He didn’t need to.

Because Renjun was out for blood. As soon as he spotted one of the tributes near the Cornucopia, he ran, scythe ready in his hands. Mark stayed back near the edges, Hyunjin’s bow ready in his hands. _Just in case,_ he thought.

Renjun was swift and flawless. Mark only felt like he blinked and then Yves’ head dropped and rolled around the grassy field. Although Mark was meters away, the image was embedded in his mind clearly. He fought the urge to let the dizziness swarm his head. He couldn’t afford to be sick and scared at that time, they had to go on.

On that same day, they found Joshua from District Two near the falls. They surrounded him but Renjun did all the work. Joshua couldn’t run, not when Renjun was fast as a lightning bolt, and his scythe was about sixty-four inches long. And even if Joshua ran past Renjun, he wouldn’t be able to outrun Mark‘s arrow.

The fear was evident in Joshua’s eyes as he realized that he had no option but to die. So Renjun didn’t waste any time and kicked the boy down the falls and into his death. Mark was about to leave when Renjun stopped him, pointing at the faux sky of the arena. They looked into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation between them, as they waited for the cannon fire.

The last tribute they faced was as unexpected as Mark Lee. Minhyuk, from District Four, was indeed part of the Careers but he was always deemed as the weakest. With his glassy eyes, soft voice, and clumsy hands, everyone thought that he would be the first one to die.

But this wasn’t the same Minhyuk anymore.

For hours, Mark and Renjun chased him until they were back at the river again. Minhyuk had a nasty cut on his lip and a few faint bruises near his temple. In his hand was a long sword, its sharpness glinting against the sun of the arena. His usual puppy look was replaced by a vicious one. And in some ways, Mark thought that he and Renjun were alike. The difference was, Minhyuk was like a feral animal looking to kill while Renjun was like a boy trying to survive.

“We should have a plan,” Mark wanted to say.

But Renjun was already running towards Minhyuk, both hands gripping his scythe tightly. Nocking an arrow onto his bow, Mark tried to shoot Minhyuk. But the two were like wolves prowling about and it was a blur; there was a possibility that Mark would hit Renjun instead. 

Their weapons clanged loudly into the forest. Mark tried to come up behind Minhyuk’s back, a knife in his hand, but the boy turned and kicked him in the chest instead. Mark fell into the river, the fast stream bringing him away from the fight.

He tried his best not to drink, not even a single drop. He shot out his hands, trying to grab for anything. His face was turning blue but at last, he held on to a stray root. He pulled, pulled, and pulled, fighting the heaviness of his clothes until he was on all fours, panting on the bank. 

A hundred steps away from him, Renjun and Minhyuk continued to dance.

Mark turned on his back, gasping for air. The light blinded him and he thought, _this must be the end for me._ But there was a thud then followed by silence.

Adrenaline rushing into his veins, Mark got up to see Renjun kneeling on the ground, eyes closed. His face and chest were splattered red and his hands were dripping with blood. Mark felt his heart dropping, thinking for the worst. But Renjun’s eyes fluttered open, gaze boring into him. He was panting hard, but he was definitely alive.

In front of Renjun lay Minhyuk’s body. Mark didn’t even have to look to know that the head was somewhere far from his neck. Renjun stood up and staggered towards him. 

Renjun grabbed him by the neck, pressing their foreheads together.

“Are you hurt?” Mark asked, worry present where he couldn’t help it.

Renjun only shook his head.

In the background, the cannon shot echoed throughout the arena. It meant that there were only the two of them left, and the impending gnawing fear on Mark’s stomach was back.

Mark closed his eyes, body relaxing into Renjun. With a whisper, he said, “Go on. Kill me. We both know they have to have a victor. Please.”

“No,” Renjun said with a firm voice that had Mark opening his eyes.

Renjun was staring at him and for the first time, his eyes weren’t hard and cold. Mark forgot about the nation’s favorite, about the charming, ruthless boy that was deemed victor from the very start. Instead, all he saw was a boy who was hurt, tired, and most importantly, just wanted to survive.

“We’re doing this together,” Renjun said and Mark trusted him wholeheartedly.

No one thought that this was possible. Not the citizens nor the government officials, especially not the Gamemakers. There was only one time when a tribute used the arena’s flaw for their own gain and they thought it wouldn’t happen again.

The 50th Hunger Games. Johnny Seo, District Nine. Only thirteen years old when he had to face the brutality of the arena. No one expected that he would win, not even his own parents who were already preparing for his funeral. 

Though no one also saw how smart Johnny was. Despite his slight build and the fact that there were 100% more opponents during that Quarter Quell, Johnny managed to survive until the end. On the verge of his own death near the cliffs, his intestines almost falling out, he managed to dodge his opponent’s axe, knowing that it would bounce off the force field and kill his opponent instead. 

Death almost upon him, Johnny was announced as the victor. Yet a dark consequence befell him after that as his parents were executed by the government. Everyone knew what happened despite the stories that the Capitol told them, but no one dared to say a word.

And now Mark and Renjun were doing it. They would think about the consequences later.

Mark took a deep breath, understanding the look Renjun gave him. He stepped forward and kissed Renjun’s forehead. _We’re doing this together._ They kneeled on the ground, facing each other. With one last squeeze on Renjun’s hand, they went to fill their cupped hands with water from the river.

“Hold your hands out. I want everyone to see,” Mark said.

With one last nod, Renjun said, “On the count of three.”

One.

It wasn’t the best life but it was good. Good enough.

Two.

No matter what would happen, he would be contented with the outcome.

Three.

Mark slowly brought his hands up, the coldness of his hands already ghosting his lips.

The trumpets blared and the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the almost empty arena. “ _Wait!_ Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Huang Renjun and Mark Lee! I give you—the tributes of District Twelve!”

• • •

  
Living in the Victors’ Village was not a luxury, it was a curse. Twelve mansions lined up the village and Mark and Renjun were given one each. Though Mark’s parents lived in one mansion while the two of them lived in the other.

It wasn’t like Mark didn’t want to live with his parents. He just didn’t want them to see him, what happened to him every night. To see that their brave son was not okay at all. To see that Mark would relive all the horrors every time he closed his eyes. His parents deserved to live as normally as they could. So during their first night, Mark went to knock on Renjun’s door.

Renjun opened the door too fast for someone who was supposed to be sleeping. He let Mark in without a word and they laid on the queen-sized bed, eyes closed but minds opened until the sun rose.

It happened once a week, then it turned into a daily occurrence until Mark’s things were already at Renjun’s house. Mark’s parents didn’t question him. From the way they hugged him during his daily visit, he knew that they knew. And that was all he needed.

Physically, Mark had the worst scars. He still had a limp whenever he walked, and his arms were covered with faint, white scars which he covered with long-sleeve shirts. Aside from a few blisters on his hands and feet and a few bug bites on his body, Renjun had no scars. Though both of them knew the permanent scar that each other would continue to carry throughout his life.

Most of the time, Renjun would let him cry into his shoulder until his energy was drained and he was left to do nothing but to sleep. Sometimes Renjun would hug him. They wouldn’t be able to sleep but at least, they had each other.

Though it was rare, there were times when Mark would wake up in the middle of the night, the space next to him cold and empty. He’d find Renjun at the far end of the village where no one but the trees could see him. Renjun would be silent but the tears falling down his face weren’t. Mark would pull him into a hug and Renjun would scream into his shirt instead. He’d do it until his throat was hurt and his voice was hoarse.

Mark would kiss Renjun’s forehead.

_We’re doing this together._

Seventy-four Games and it was the first time their district had a victor—not one but two victors. They had no mentors and had to learn everything by themselves. Mark and Renjun had managed, and they had won.

So there was also no one to tell them that the Victory Tour would be harder. A seemingly harmless tour and a parade were worse than a game full of death and monstrosity. 

The tour started from District Eleven until they reached the Capitol, ending with their home district. And in each district, Mark saw the ghost of the other tributes in their family’s faces. 

Mark almost had no will to stomach everything. He ended up throwing up in his room whenever he gave out speeches. There was just something horrid about thanking those who put everyone in this position in the first place. The bitterness and anger in every citizen’s face, no matter what district, was blatant, yet no one acted on it. 

In District Six, he had tried to make a speech of his own, crumpling the card given to him. He didn’t thank the Capitol, the president nor the Gamemakers. Instead, he thanked the citizens for enduring the horror that these Games bring. For still surviving even if their loved ones didn’t. A man stepped forward and gave him the Three Finger Salute. Before Mark could react, the man was beaten by the Peacekeepers.

Since then, he and Renjun followed their cards. Their eyes straight ahead, their voices monotonous. “Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever,” they were forced to say.

Career districts were even harder to face, especially for Renjun. He didn’t show it in his face but Mark didn’t miss how Renjun balled up his fists so tight his knuckles turned white whenever he gave a speech.

In District Four, Minhyuk’s father was in front of the crowd. If a gaze can kill, Mark and Renjun would’ve been dead the moment they stepped on to the stage. They had both given their speeches well. Mark didn’t stutter despite the hatred seeping out of everyone’s skins. When Renjun finished his speech, Minhyuk’s father stepped forward.

“ _Jug-eum,_ ” he called out to Renjun.

Mark knew the word well. 

Death, they called him.

Soon enough, most of the people from the crowd were chanting it. It was like they were placing a curse and Renjun was their unlucky little lamb. The Peacekeepers had to intervene, pushing people back, but the crowd was relentless. Mark and Renjun had to be pulled back into their train.

District One was like an unending nightmare for Mark. Everywhere he looked, he could see Hyunjin’s face. Billboards, posters, flyers; his face and his name were everywhere. And staring into that smirking photo, Mark could only see what he did to Hyunjin’s face.

Before he could even start his speech, a woman spat on the ground and turned away. She looked awfully a lot like Hyunjin. Mark tried not to mind her but his voice got the better of him. Renjun placed a hand on his shoulder and it soothed him. Though the same cannot be said when it was Renjun’s turn.

Just like in the previous Career districts, they called him like they were a bunch of ravens giving out a bad omen. 

_Jug-eum. Jug-eum. Jug-eum._

_Death. Death. Death._

Renjun stared at them with emptiness in his bright eyes.

The story was different in the Capitol. There was a huge celebration and a sumptuous dinner party. Instead of bitterness and anger, people only had love and admiration for them.

During their interview, Leeteuk asked the inevitable question. “Renjun, I had to ask. What was in your mind that made you think of drinking the river water with Mark?”

Mark and Renjun had talked about this, though not verbally. But they understood all their actions and they knew what they were doing. Renjun took Mark’s hand in his and squeezed it. When he spoke, his voice was steady and certain. “I thought that I can’t bear to lose him. That winning the Games alone would be far too worse than dying with him. At least in death, we’d be together.”

When Mark pulled him into a kiss, a series of sighs came from the audience. Though Mark wasn’t sure if that would be enough to satisfy everyone—including those who were not from the Capitol.

So he gave Renjun a look and the boy immediately understood. Renjun gave his hand one more squeeze before nodding. Mark cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “That is why we decided that we’re getting married next year.”

The audience went wild. Some were crying, some were hugging, some were cheering. He looked at Renjun once again and the latter leaned in and whispered, “It’s good. You did well.”

“Congratulations! Oh, good god. This is great news.” Leeteuk sighed happily. “Ah, young love. I love it! Amidst the Games and you two still found your way to each other.”

Renjun laughed and it almost sounded natural. “What can I say? If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I think you got that the other way around.” Mark chuckled.

Leeteuk nodded in agreement. “Yes, Renjun. You were like Mark’s knight in shining armor! Y’know, killing everyone who dared look at him the wrong way.”

Then the crowd started to chant.

_Jug-eum. Jug-eum. Jug-eum._

But this time, it sounded like a prayer. Like Renjun was the God of Death who blessed them with a bloodbath that would nourish their crops. Like he’d spare them if they give him their thanks.

He felt Renjun’s hand going cold in his, but they only smiled and waved at the sea of faceless people.

That night in their room, Renjun didn’t let go of him. He buried his face into Mark’s neck with Mark’s hand encircling his tiny waist. They stayed that way for a long time, silent and still, until Renjun spoke.

“I mean it.”

Mark was startled, confused. “Huh?”

“I mean it,” Renjun repeated. “That if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.”

Mark didn’t know what to say so he rubbed his thumb on Renjun’s skin instead.

However, Renjun continued. “If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve given up on the first day of the Games. But you—you gave me a reason not to. You gave me hope.”

“What did I do?” Mark asked curiously.

He felt Renjun laughing into his neck. “It’s silly. But when you got reaped, you smiled like genuinely smiled. I have never seen anyone do that, not even the Careers, but you, you fucking did it.” Renjun finally raised his head and looked up at Mark’s eyes. “And at first I thought, how can this guy smile like that? He’s definitely going to die. But then I felt like you knew that already. That smile—it wasn’t happiness, it was acceptance.”

Renjun bit his lip before going on. “It’s funny, you know. Hundreds of those papers contained my name and it had been that way since I was twelve. I thought that it was going to be the last time. Next year, my name wouldn’t be in there anymore. But then my name got called. Just my luck, right? Then I thought of my parents, even though I didn’t know them. I thought that maybe this is how they felt and that I was going to have the same fate as them.

“When we stood on the stage, you were still smiling. It’s like you didn’t care. That’s when the thought clicked into me.”

“What thought?”

“That if you were willing to accept your fate just like that then I refused to be the same. That if you were willing to die, then I’d be willing to live. For you, for your memory. Even if I didn’t know who you were.” Renjun slipped his hand into Mark’s as he licked his chapped lips. “Then in the arena, I got the chance to save both of us. I got the chance to share the possibility of living with you. I know it’s not really living but we are trying, and we survived. We’re surviving.”

The laughter that escaped Renjun’s lip was bitter yet beautiful. “Fuck. I’m a sap.”

Mark pulled him closer to his chest. “We’re surviving,” he whispered into Renjun’s head before giving it a kiss. “We’re doing this together.”

It was the next day when the president had announced what would happen for the Quarter Quell, a special edition of the Hunger Games held every twenty-five years. The Games would be pretty much the same but for the 75th Hunger Games, the tributes would come from the pool of past victors.

District Twelve only has two. And that’s the both of them.

Neither of them cried nor said anything. There was nothing really left to feel. Their eyes were already empty a long time ago. All that was left for them to do was to be in each other’s embrace as the universe laughed back at them. 

• • •

It has been a long, exhausting year. And now Mark is back in the arena.

Still, Mark never thought that he would make it this far. 

In some odd ways, the situation is very familiar to him. Like everything just happened yesterday. The faux sun blinds him but his eyes settle eventually on the Cornucopia. This time the arena is divided into twelve like a clock, and there’s still twenty-four of them. Everyone has an empty look in their faces as they patiently wait for the impending gunshot.

Mark looks beside him, where he knows his husband is standing. Renjun looks calm as if he’s back to the confines of their home. Though Mark knows what’s really going on in his head. He reaches out a hand, fingers cold and stiff.

Renjun turns to him and there’s a familiar look in his eyes. Mark remembers it clearly. It’s the same look Renjun gave him when he told Mark that he wasn’t going to let him die. And the vow still holds.

Renjun reaches out his hand too but their fingers never touch.

Then the gun fires.


End file.
